


Vallaslin

by eternalshiva



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalshiva/pseuds/eternalshiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her fingertip followed the edge of the Vallaslin, the burgundy ink embedded in the tattoo felt heavy on this particular morning and she nibbled at her lip, the scarring was old but the memory won’t fade – over the years, the ink sinks deeper into her dark skin and the meaning of it has drifted into the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vallaslin

**Author's Note:**

> It was artsyneurotic's birthday last week and this is super late. I'm lame, I know. IT features her inquizzie and I hope I got her character okay.

Her fingertip followed the edge of the Vallaslin, the burgundy ink embedded in the tattoo felt heavy on this particular morning and she nibbled at her lip, the scarring was old but the memory won’t fade – over the years, the ink sinks deeper into her dark skin and the meaning of it has drifted into the past.

Or she’d like to think so, it’s hard to forget.

She can still recall the painful prick of the wooden combs as the healer tapped it methodically, the sting of the ink as it stained her flesh and the warmth of the fire that enveloped her naked body inside the ritual tent.

_He who taught the People to bend…_

She can still hear the words of the First drifting through her thoughts, the words she had spoken carved themselves onto the smoke of the fire and she was sure the scent of the herbs were making her dizzy.

_The branches of the trees to make our bows…_

She recalls how she winced, the blood of her tattoo wounds slicked the skin and how the healer motioned to her to stand, her coming of age ceremony completed. They wrapped her in white crisp furs of the sacred Halla and how the First hummed a prayer to June, the god she chose to have imprinted on her being, the creator she choose to keep in her soul.

_And to fashion coverings of furs and ironbark._

Prishe took a deep breath and turned from the mirror, eyeing her empty bed, wondering just where Cullen had gone the last few days. He had a mission that had required his personal touch and she hadn’t been available to go with him. She sighed, heading down the stairs of her quarters to the Undercroft, she had to fix her staff, still. It had cracked during the battle with Corypheus and she hadn’t been able to really fix it.

 _Maybe if I switch out the blade to something else…?_ She thought but shook her head. That won’t fix the split wood and how it diverged her focused magic into splinters. She rubbed the back of her neck, her crafting skill wasn’t very good but she had a few ideas on how to fix it.

She stepped out into the great hall, avoiding as much attention as she could from the nobles but since the end of the war, they flocked the throne room, asking her a million questions constantly about what the inquisition would conquer next and she wasn’t sure how to really respond to that.

The Inquisition was over, but she recognized that there might still be a need for a neutral party in further conflicts. Some agreed, others didn’t but it wasn’t her decision, really, the new Divine had asked for the Inquisition to stay.

Who was she to argue with her?

She snuck away, relieved – her coming of age da was always difficult and she needed to be distracted, the memories could be hard on her since she wasn’t part of the clan and she didn’t follow the creators any longer.

She nodded at Dagna, who looked like she wanted to ask her questions but maybe it was Prishe’s expression – or the way she almost seem to wrap herself into a cloak of privacy, the dwarf let her be when she picked up the carving tools. She picked up her staff and set herself to work.

A few hours past, her thoughts on Cullen and her lack of progress when the door to the undercroft creaked open, she looked up and saw her lover walk through, smiling.

“Cullen!” She grinned, happy to see him, “I was starting to think you got lost on your way home.” She teased as he approached her. She noticed he held something in his hands – it was long, probably a bit taller than she was and thin.

She frowned, still smiling.

“Ah, yes, well-“ he cleared his throat, his cheeks were still coloured from the cold air outside of Skyhold. She deducted that he had come straight in here to find her.

“How did you know I was in here?” She asked, as he leaned in and kissed her tenderly on her cheek, aware that there were others in the room.

“Lelianna had sent me a message while I was nearly here,” he looked her over, she could see a little bit of lust in his eyes and she felt her cheeks warm.

“Why would she-“ Prishe started to ask, genuinely confused.

“Well, you see. I found out a few weeks ago when your birthday was, thanks to some snooping from our Spymaster.” He grinned, pleased with himself.

Prishe stilled, her smile frozen on her face.

“You did?” she asked, flatly, which seem to surprise Cullen, he reached out and touched her shoulder, worried.

“Yes, but I didn’t tell anyone, if you’re worried.” He gave her a comforting smile and she relaxed, visibly. “Lelianna also found out you hate your birthday, so we’ve been very quiet.”

She let out a breath she didn’t she was holding, pleased that no one would bother her on this day. However, Cullen held the package before her, the length of it horizontal. It looked… like a wrapped staff.

“Now, I did a bit of digging around myself,” he pressed the gift into her hands and she unwrapped it carefully. She gasped.

The wood was ironbark, carved with the June Vallaslin, or at least a form if it – she could see elvhen carved into it – a Dalish memory, she was sure. It was inked with her clan colours, a subtle tint to the wood and there was a bright stone at the tip to help her magic focus.

“Where? A-and how?” She asked, a bit flustered. Cullen smiled, she seemed pleased with his gift.

“Well, I managed to get in touch with your clan, and after very lengthy negotiations, your clan crafters agreed to make this staff for you in exchange for a few favours.” He cleared his throat. It had been much more difficult than that but she didn’t need to know that.

She flipped the staff in her hands, the balance was perfect, it was light and strong and she closed her eyes, focusing a spell through her hands.

The barrier formed, flawless – no splintering in the energy and she wanted to shout with joy. She felt whole, once again – her magic in sync with her thoughts once more. She took his hand and pulled him closer, kissing his lips a little longer than they were used to in public.

He blushed, speechless at her joy and laughter. She pulled him along behind her, heading up to their quarters, she needed to thank him properly and the Vallaslin didn't feel so heavy anymore.


End file.
